The Forbidden Forest
by IndigoUmbrella
Summary: Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers; Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters. A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night, May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright. -Florence and the Machine
1. Chapter 1

The evening had been light blue with little swirls of bright cloud in the hazy sky. The sun's last light was still glowing on the western horizon when the girl stepped out into the garden to enjoy the warmth of an early spring night. The grass had grown back green, vibrant, and wild, and the day had been quiet and moderate in temperature. She had spent most of the day outdoors, relishing in the release of winter's grip.

Sundown had been her signal to return home. Though she hadn't actually returned home at all. She let her mother know she was there through the open kitchen window. Then she stepped out onto the grass, kicked off of her shoes and sat down to enjoy the heat before the night whisked it away. After spending the entire winter locked in her house, it had been a perfect day and a perfect afternoon. She would always remember that day as being the most peaceful day of her entire life. Not because the day had been any different than all the early days of spring, but because it was the last day she would ever know peace.

She laid on the grass, feeling the breezes cool by the second and little bugs that tickled her skin as they returned to life after the long winter. Her mother had told her the moon was to be the brightest one of the year so far, and she found herself eagerly awaiting its rise over the trees. Her family had even planned to spend the evening eating dinner in the garden. It was something they used to enjoy on lazy afternoons before the peace was shattered forever.

Elise was looking forward to a night camped out under the stars in the tall grass. She could smell supper cooking as it wafted from the kitchen window and over to where she was seated. When Elise was older, she would relive that night many times in her mind. She often wondered what it was that brought him into the garden on such a peaceful and perfect afternoon. She wondered if it was the scent of the meal her parents were preparing. Or the scent of the lavender perfumed soap her mother had bought just for her. Maybe it was the moon rising slowly beyond the trees. But she knew in her heart that she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

There was no proper fence to separate their garden from the field. It was a short and small fence where the grass changed from neatly trimmed to wild and tall like an ocean of green and yellow. She had heard the man before he appeared. He let out a groan as he wondered from the coppice of trees and dropped into the sea of grass just as the moon began to rise over the trees. She sat up, leaning on her elbows, and looked out as a breeze made waves through the grass. The light left a hazy glow on the garden that didn't reach far enough for her to make out the shape of him. The sun had disappeared and left nothing behind but a splotch of pink the western sky.

Then a growl traveled over the grass to where she was seated. The shape moved and stood. He was tall as a mountain of gangly limbs and snarling teeth. The growl came from a place deep inside of his chest and sounded like a dog that had gone rabid and wild. She felt the hair on the back of her arms rise as he slowly stumbled on two legs and moved toward the light, crouching and half crawling like an injured animal.

The moon reflected off of his eyes and she told herself that it was nothing more than a stray dog. She stood to her feet and stepped back cautiously, preparing to run into the house if the dog should bolt toward her. But instead of a dog, she saw a beast of a man. He stretched out an arm that was more like a hand than a paw. His fingers were long and twisted and resembled sharp claws. His eyes, though manic and animalistic even from afar, held something human inside of them. There was wisdom and knowledge that she had never seen in a wild animal. Something she could only describe as self-awareness. As if he knew exactly why he was there and what he planned to do. Then the beast crouched, turned it's long snout toward the pinkening sky, and let out a deep and haunting howl.

She leapt over the small fence and ran for the back door, screaming for her mother.

The howl broke off in a snarl as the creature crashed through the garden after her. She made it into the house before it could reach her and shoved her body against the door as she struggled for the locks. Her mother, having witnessed the chase from the kitchen window, reached for the knife she had left on a nearby counter and screamed for her husband. The man rushed into the room and slammed his body against the door to secure the locks into the place. The knife slipped and fell to the floor, clanging loudly in the now silent kitchen.

Elise often blamed herself for what happened next. As if she could have known the creature couldn't be stopped by a locked door. All she could remember about that moment was the clang of the knife as her mother pulled her into her arms and she buried herself there, wrapped in safety and comfort and the belief that the creature would never harm them.

But the window was still open, and the animal was determined to finish what he had started. The creature crashed through the open window and smashed into the kitchen table. Elise would never forget the sound of her mother screaming as she was shoved aside. She watched her mother reach for the fallen knife, but it was already too late. The monster tore through her father, ripping him apart in several quick motions, and she was next in line.

Over the years, people would ask her what the pain was like. She didn't remember pain, strangely enough. Just gleaming white teeth and looking into those unusually human eyes. She saw him sink his fangs into her right thigh, but she could never recall the exact sensation. As if fear and shock had consumed all other senses. She remembered only the way he had looked into her eyes as he tore into her flesh. She was told that they had no control over themselves when they changed, but she could never bring herself to believe it. She had felt his intention when he clamped his jaws around her leg.

Her mother had reclaimed her hold of the knife and leapt on him before he could tear Elise apart just like her father. The blade struck him in the shoulder, and the thud of the metal against his bones had reverberated through both their bodies. The creature yelped, much like a dog, as he released her from his jaws. Then he clamored onto the counter and disappeared out of the window and into the night. The room fell silent again except for the sound of Elise's own panicked breaths. The knife slipped from her mother's hand and hit the floor. It didn't clang this time, Elise remembered. It splashed in the growing puddle of her father's blood.

Some part of her hoped there was still a chance to save him. He couldn't be dead because she had just seen him. She could still hear his voice as he shouted, moments before the creature took him. She could recall the scent of his cologne and imagine the comforting feel of his favorite cotton shirt as he carried her to bed. She tried to crawl toward him, to see him breathing, to hear him tell her everything was just fine. Her fingers stretched through the blood and then a loud snap broke the silence and froze her in place.

A group of strangers had appeared in the kitchen quite suddenly. One moment it was just the three of them, and then the kitchen was crowded. Her vision slipped and her fingers dropped. Darkness filled her eyes and she fell into unconsciousness to the sound of her mother screaming in her ears.


	2. Chapter 2

It had felt like an eternity before Elise regained consciousness. She was later told that she had only slept for several days, but to her, it seemed like a lifetime. She couldn't remember much from the few times she drifted closer to the surface of consciousness. Sometimes she thought she saw faces in the dark or heard voices from far off. Sometimes she saw things she couldn't explain. The only thing that stood out to her enough to haunt her for the rest of her life was the mention of a name.

"Greyback."

She wouldn't know what it meant until much later, but she was certain she had heard that word. She could recall the sound of her mother sobbing and the murmur of unfamiliar voices. And that one voice, softer than the others, as it uttered the name she would never forget.

When she woke for the first time, really woke, she broke through consciousness to the sound of rain. She could hear it pattering against a window and the quiet drip drop as water leaked through a hole in the ceiling. She knew right away that she wasn't at home in bed. The roof didn't leak there anymore. Her dad patched it up the summer before.

The bed was chilly, but she could make out the warmth of a heated bottle beneath the springy mattress. Her eyes were hot beneath their lids, and the body seemed to fight between hot and cold, changing every few minutes. She could feel the chill of the air even through the thick, moth-eaten blankets. But her head felt hot and her body felt weakened and shaky as if she'd spent those few days in a constant sweat.

She had to pry her eyes open before she could make sense of the room. Forms and shapes began to appear through the haze as her eyes adjusted to being open. She found herself lying against a soft cotton pillow with a floral pattern. Beyond it, she could see the lace pattern that had been sewn into the edges of the blankets. And just beyond the bed, where the light was brighter and the rain tapped against a single window, stood a man.

He was tall, with a gangly body and clothes that fit too loose around his body. His shoulders were hunched and even from the distance she could see that his hair was messy. As if he hadn't experienced a full night's sleep in a very long time. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the color of the many scars over his face and his bare hands. He held them close to his core as he attempted to rub some warmth into them.

She studied him while she waited for her mind to focus and her voice to return. She memorized the shape of his face and the forlorn expression he carried on his features. A movement caught her attention from the corner of her eyes and she turned to the wall where pictures appeared to be moving. She figured she must be imagining it.

"C-cold," is the first word that managed to escape from her tangled thoughts. The man turned and gave her a warm smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Cold," she repeated. He nodded and pulled something out from the inner pocket of his jacket. It appeared to be a long and polished stick. He waved it in his hand and the water bottle beneath the mattress began to grow warmer. The warmth seeped in through the sheets and took the chill off of her bones.

"Better?" he asked, as he tucked the stick back away in his pocket. She nodded, not quite understanding what she had seen.

"What was that?" she questioned. He pulled a rickety old chair away from the window and rested it beside the bed, where he took a seat and laced his fingers together beneath his scarred chin.

"Do you believe in magic, Elise?" he asked her then. She watched his face for a moment, unsure of why he would ask her such a silly question at a time like that.

"I don't—I don't think so."

"Have you ever done anything strange? Anything you couldn't explain? Do you ever make things happen without meaning to?" She blinked several times as she tried to force her mind to focus.

"I once made all the lights in the house burst at breakfast," she confided, even though she still wasn't sure what he meant by the question.

"What were you feeling at the time? Right before all the lights burst?" She took another moment to bring up the memory. Her parents had tried to hard to convince her that it hadn't been her fault. They called it an electrical surge. But she felt it, she remembered. And she remembered exactly how she felt the moment before that feeling burst out of her and all the lights popped at once.

"Angry," she admitted.

"How old were you?"

"I'm not sure. It wasn't long ago. I was arguing with my mum." He nodded and pressed his fingers against his lips. She was confident he was thinking of another question to ask her, but talking about her mum instantly brought her mind back into focus. "Where is she?" she asked him. "Where's my mum?" His eyes moved back to her again.

"She's downstairs. Helping your host make lunch. Are you hungry?"

"No—I don't think I could eat. What about my dad?" He looked away and his eyebrows furrowed in a sad expression.

"I'm afraid he didn't make it. I am truly sorry." She felt her eyes get hot again as she sniffed back the tears that began to form.

"It's alright," she told him, stretching her fingers to wipe the tears away. "I knew he couldn't have. I just hoped…"

"Elise—what do you remember about the creature that attacked you?" She sniffed again and he waited patiently for her answer.

"I remember its eyes. They were almost human."

"Do you have any idea what sort of creature it was?"

"I don't know. A dog of some kind. But—not a dog." He nodded solemnly.

"It was a werewolf," he explained. "A werewolf named Fenrir Greyback."

"I've heard that name before—when I was dreaming."

"Yes, we were telling your mother."

"But werewolves aren't real. They can't be."

"I'm afraid they are very real. And I'm so terribly sorry that this happened to you."

"He bit me, you know? He bit my leg."

"I know."

"Does that mean I'm going to be like him?"

"You're very quick for your age." He paused. "And I'm afraid so. Yes, you will be like him. But you won't be alone. Can I tell you a story?" She nodded slowly. So he began.

"When I was a boy," he told her. "Not much younger than you, my father—my father was a wizard, just like me."

"A wizard?"

"Yes, that is why I asked if you believed in magic."

"The stick you had then. Is that your magic wand?" He smiled as if he found her response impressive.

"Yes, excellent. It's a wand." He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. He held it on both of his hands and looked it over. "Would you like to see it?" She nodded and he set it down in her small exposed hand. The wood felt heavier than she expected but smooth beneath her fingers.

"It's just a piece of wood," she said. He smiled and lifted the wand.

"A very powerful piece of wood. For the wizard it is intended for. In this case, me. But someday you will get your own." Her eyes widened in surprise.

"I can do magic too?" He slid the wand back into his pocket and nodded once.

"Yes," he told her. "And that's the only reason you're still alive."

"I don't understand," she said.

"You see." He leaned his elbows on his knees. "When a muggle—that's what we call non-magical people—when a muggle is bitten by a werewolf, the bite kills them. Werewolves are magical and the curse we suffer from is magical too. It only affects magical people. Like you and I."

"You're one too?"

"Yes, that is the story I was going to tell you."

"Oh, forgive me for interrupting."

"No, no. Ask as many questions as you need."

"You never even told me your name," she pointed out.

"Remus," he told her. "Remus Lupin."

"I'm Elise. Elise Mills." He smiled.

"Yes, your mother told me."

"Please continue with your story?"

"Yes. Right. Where were we? As I said, my father was a wizard. And in our world we have a ministry, much like your ministry, only it caters to the magical world. My father worked for the ministry and once offended a werewolf by the name of Fenrir Greyback." She nodded to show him that she was following along. "You see, in our world werewolves are treated rather unfairly, and sometimes people lash out violently because of it. This particular werewolf—is very dark and very unkind. And when he heard my father say such terrible things about his kind, he decided to seek revenge—through me."

"So—he bit you? The same one who bit me?" she asked. He nodded.

"He came in through my bedroom window when I was just a boy. He wanted my parents to have to raise a werewolf, just like the ones my father swore he hated."

"So then why did he bite me? If my family isn't magical."

"Because our world is at war, Elise. It is a war between dark wizards and light wizards. And many werewolves have chosen the side where they feel the most accepted."

"The bad guys."

"Yes, and—recently—they have been placing themselves as close to muggle villages just as often as magical villages. They are attempting to build—well an army of werewolves. Or eradicate muggles completely. Greyback has a particular fondness for children. He placed himself within your village and within your reach on purpose." He took a deep breath and looked at her again. "But—if you had been a muggle, you would have died the first night you were brought here. But you pushed through, which means there is magic in you. And that means you are just like me."

"So—are you on the good side or the bad side?" she asked him.

"Every side believes that they are the right side," he told her. "The difference is what we believe good to mean. And I happen to believe that all people, regardless of magic or blood or any other such things, deserve to live."

"Then why have you chosen this side if everyone else has chosen the other? You said they treat you badly."

"Because I was lucky enough to find my place in this world. I made friends. I have a family and people that I love. I was lucky to find people who put so much faith in me, and to find support. I expect that's exactly why they brought you here instead of taking you to a healer." He sighed heavily. "There's a school in our world for witches and wizards and every year a handful of them are chosen from muggle families who did not know they had magical children. No one knows why it happens, exactly.

"The other night when you were brought here, I had an idea that you might be a witch too. Your wound was quite large and it should have killed you. So I had an affiliate at that school search for your name—and you were there. Which means you are a witch."

"I've always been told that witchcraft is bad." He gave a soft chuckle.

"Witchcraft can be used for bad things. All things have the ability to be good or bad. A flower, for instance. Sometimes they are good are bad. They can poison you or feed you. They can smell pleasant or unpleasant. They can be pretty or unusual. People are like that too. All people are capable of good or bad and some of those people can use magic. And one particular wizard has done dreadful things. He does not like muggles like your parents, and he doesn't like muggle born witches like you. He has gained a very large following of werewolves who thought they were alone and unaccepted."

"And now I'm one of them?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. And there will be times in your life when you will think that you are unlucky to be who you are. This curse—that has afflicted you will decide everything you do for the rest of your life. The only advice I can give you is," he paused for a long moment as he stared at the wall beyond her, "is just to live. To the best of your ability. Make friends, fall in love, live. Because when you find yourself in those dark places—where you feel like death is better than being what you are, you will need memories like those to keep you going. Can you do that for me, Elise?"

Her face was still wet with tears and she didn't fully grasp what he was asking of her. But she nodded anyway.

"I'll try," she promised.

He gave her another smile and stood to leave the room. She could tell that the conversation had been difficult for him. He left in a hurry, not wanting to share whatever pain he felt with a child who was destined to experience much the same. She felt sad for him. And when she was older, she would understand why it had been so hard for him to look at her, knowing all of the troubles he had faced, and all of those that still lay ahead of her.

...

Random fact time: Her name was originally supposed to be Eloise. But somewhere along the line I misspelled it and just continued to misspell it and by the time I figured it out I was just like "Alright, this is her name then, I guess."

Also, I said in the last chapter that some HP characters would have cameos. This obviously seems larger than just a cameo. But I did mention that Lupin would be a very influential person to her, for this very reason. Because he gave her the advice that ends up shaping her life. "To live to the best of her ability."

But there will also be a couple of Weasley's and teachers.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite the somber atmosphere, the Weasley home was always on the move. Elise laid in bed for a long time watching the posters on the walls with the people who flew on broomsticks in and out of the frames. Sometimes she saw them visiting other posters. Sometimes they just sat there, staring off into space as if they weren't paper and had their own thoughts.

Even though she never left the room, she could hear the house. She could hear the thumping of footsteps on the stairs and the floors above her. Sometimes laughter drifted from far away. There were times when she even thought she heard someone crying. And once or twice she heard a groaning sound that came from far above.

Remus never returned. After he had left Elise in the upstairs bedroom, she heard him say goodbye to whoever was downstairs. Later that day as she sat there listening to all of those lively sounds she finally heard feet on the stairs and a tap on the door. She rolled over, wincing from the aching pain, and faced the door. When it opened a woman with curly red hair smiled in at her.

"Hello, dear. How are you feeling?" she asked. Elise wasn't sure how to respond. But the woman seemed so warm and friendly that the truth didn't seem the right answer.

"I'm alright," she said. The woman pushed the door opened and stepped inside with various bottles balanced on a tray in her hands. Her mother, Patricia, followed along behind her, so Elise focused her attention on her. Her face was tired, her eyes were red, and it appeared as if she hadn't slept, ate, or lived in days. She was holding another tray, but this one was balancing a steaming bowl.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said softly as she set the tray down on the stand beside the bed.

The redheaded woman bustled over to the other side and deposited the tray of strange bottles on the nightstand. Then she reached for an oil lamp and turned up the flame so that the room wasn't so dark. Patricia cautiously took a seat on the bed beside her daughter and pressed her hand against the girl's burning forehead. Elise's eyes fluttered closed at her cool touch.

"How are you feeling?" Patricia asked. "And I want you to be honest with me. We can't help you if you don't tell the truth." Elise sighed heavily and opened her eyes again.

"My skin feels hot," she told her. "But my bones feel cold. My body can't decide if it wants to be hot or cold. And everything hurts. But mostly my leg." Patricia gave a sympathetic smile.

"I know, darling. This is Molly Weasley. This is her home. She's a witch like in the stories you like. She's going to do her best to help you." Elise turned her eyes on the unfamiliar woman, watching her uncork one of the bottles. Mrs. Weasley gave her kind smile again.

"I'm afraid there isn't much I can do," she told the girl. "At least not for a werewolf bite." Elise glanced at her mother just in time to see her expression fall. She looked down at the moth-eaten blanket. "I can take some of the pain, though, and I can help you get some sleep. But you will need to eat first. This potion works quickly."

"Like a magic potion?" Elise asked. She smiled again and nodded her head.

"Yes, a magic potion. And someday you will learn how to make potions too." Elise felt herself smile back.

"Do you really think I can be a witch like you?" Mrs. Weasley sat down beside her, jostling the bed and squeezing her between the two older women.

"I think you'll be better," she said. "Now eat up. You must be starved."

"I suppose I am. I hadn't noticed."

Patricia helped Elise to sit and Molly helped her eat the simple broth. It made her feel better, but she couldn't eat very much before she grew tired again. But once Mrs. Weasley was satisfied that she had enough, she reached for the tray and lifted a potion bottle and a spoon.

Elise was apprehensive at first because she didn't know if she would feel the magic or whatever ingredients were inside the potion. But it tasted bitter like old medicine, and there were no strange or unfamiliar feelings. Mrs. Weasley and her mother helped her lie back on the pillows, and she immediately drifted off to sleep.

...

Sorry this is so short! Like I said, I'm just making shit up as I go along. I just knew I wanted more Weasley's. Even if just for a minute.


	4. Chapter 4

Seclusion was the worst place for a child to grieve, and Elise had so many things to grieve over. The death of her father, the loss of her innocence, and the change in her humanity.

While she stayed with the Weasley family, her mother put the house up for sale and moved them to a small, lonely, property far away from other people. It was a place for them to heal and grieve. But also a place for them to hide from the war they'd been dragged into, and a place to hide a daughter who now had a monster constantly struggling to be free.

She spent her first lunar cycle at St. Mungo's Hospital in London. Her healers wanted her to experience her first transition before they could concoct a proper Wolfsbane potion. She remembered being locked and chained in a room, screaming in agony. She begged to go home. Begged for her father and mother. Even the kind warmth of the Weasley home. She even begged for Remus Lupin to help guide her through it.

But no help came. After she had been let go, her mother brought her to the new house. Patricia walked through the door and sat down at the kitchen table in the dark. Elise stood by the kitchen entrance clutching her pillow. The house was still unfamiliar and frightening to her, and she didn't want to walk to her bedroom alone.

"There's something I need to tell you," Patricia spoke from the table. Even though it had only been a month since her husband's death, she already seemed so worn and frail.

"What is it?" Elise asked her. Patricia patted the table.

"Sit down, darling." The girl took a cautious step toward her and took a seat on the other side of the table. She was still holding onto her pillow, afraid of the dark and whatever it was her mother wanted her to know.

"I spoke to Mrs. Weasley this morning before you were let go," she said. "The war is over." She tried to produce a smile, but it seemed so forced. "Things are going to change—for people like you. They're going to do the best they can to—provide you with the best life possible."

Elise could tell that she was just barely getting around to whatever she wanted to say. And she could tell by her mother's expression that it wasn't something she wanted to hear.

"So what's the bad news?" she asked. Patricia took a deep breath and let it go, but her eyes didn't meet her daughter's.

"You remember the man who came to see you—after—Remus Lupin?"

"Yes, of course."

"He—he died during the battle—he and his wife." Elise looked away and hugged her pillow closer.

Over the years, she often asked herself why his death hurt her so badly. She hardly knew him. She met him once and not for any significant amount of time. But he was her biggest connection to the world she was now part of. He was the first person to tell her what she was. He was the only other person she knew who was just like her. That's why she called for him when she was changing. That's why his death affected her so deeply. She felt so isolated.

"They left behind a child," Patricia continued. "A baby boy called Teddy." Elise nodded slowly.

"He's not…" she started, "like me, is he?" Her mother shook her head.

"No, darling. He's…"

Elise could hear the word she didn't say. She would never say it. But Elise would always feel it whenever her mother spoke about her or her world. The world was "normal." Patricia was normal. Teddy Lupin was normal. Elise was not. She would never be normal. Even in her strange world of magic and witchcraft she wasn't normal.

"Can I go to bed now?" she asked her mother.

"Of course, sweetheart."

"Will you walk me?"

"Yes, absolutely." Patricia jumped up and reached for her daughter's small hand. She was always careful with her, and eager to help with whatever the girl might need.

Elise was grateful for her, but she would never understand just what the woman was going through. After losing her husband she'd been thrust into a world she didn't understand. A world she would never fully be part of, but one she had to learn all the same. She would have to get used to owls bringing the mail and people appearing in her fireplace. More than that, she would have to deal with a child who turned into a monster once a month and disappeared to a magical school for most of the year.

She led her daughter up to the bedroom she'd set up for her, hoping it was enough like the home they'd left behind to help her transition. But hoping it wasn't so much like it that it hurt. She turned on the light as the child climbed into her bed, hugging her pillow close to her chest. Patricia left her daughter with a kiss on the head, and when she was gone the girl cried herself to sleep.

...

*Singing* I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I'm just making shit up as I go. *Does a dance*


	5. Chapter 5

In some ways, the house was almost the same as the house Elise had lived in before her father died. In the same aspect, it was entirely different. The house itself was an average home, only built out of the way and far from other people. Elise always felt like she lived in the middle of the woods, but the distance from the house to the nearest village wasn't very far at all. But to a child with no way to travel except for her own two feet, it might as well have been the moon.

Patricia did everything she could to make Elise feel comfortable in the new place. She'd moved all of their things from the old house that would remind them of the home they'd left behind. But there was so much missing now. Her father was the biggest hole in their hearts, and there were other things she missed too. She missed the sea of grass outside the garden gate. She missed her neighborhood friends and her school. She missed being normal.

Even though her mother wanted her to feel at home, she also wanted her to become accustomed to the world she was now going to be part of. After the war had ended, she subscribed to a wizarding newspaper that arrived every morning delivered by owl. She tried to read the articles to Elise, but the girl showed no real interest in politics and business. Even magical ones. The only delivery she looked forward to was the Wolfsbane potion that arrived once a month.

There was still so much about the world that she didn't know yet. Patricia had offered to order Elise's school books so she could learn a few things before school started, but Elise politely declined. She didn't feel like she was ready yet. She was just barely attempting to adjust to the monthly changes hat made her want to rip her mother in half. She didn't want to deal with this entirely new world and culture that had come along with it.

So she didn't think much of the cat when it appeared in the woods around her house over a year later. She had spent most of the day outside since she was finally free from the effects of the lunar cycle. The potions worked, in that they stopped her from turning into an animal, but the three days of the full moon became more and more unbearable every month. She was bedridden for three days. And her mother had taken to strapping her wrists down to stop her from clawing at her skin in an attempt to set the beast free.

They hadn't known how she would do the first few times, and so there were scars on her face and arms from where her claws had grown too long and she'd attempted to rip her own skin off.

She was standing in the stream when she first noticed the cat. The stream ran through the property and she'd spent the afternoon searching for frogs and toads. She was wearing rainboots and a light dress that was sopping wet and dripping with mud.

The cat stood on the edge of the bank. It was watching her quietly so that she hadn't even noticed it approach. It was a tabby with black markings on its face, and it had caught her chasing down a school of toad spawn.

"Oh, hello," Elise said when she noticed the animal. Its tail twitched in response. She sloshed out of the water and went to greet her new friend. A cat was far more interesting to her than a bunch of toads. She didn't have a pet at home. Her mother was worried that she might hurt it. She never said it, but Elise knew that was the reason.

The girl plopped down on the grass beside the cat and went to pat its head. It had allowed her two good pats before it walked off back toward the path. She jumped up to follow after it. It didn't seem to want to be scratched, but it looked like it knew where it was going.

So Elise followed it back to her house. As they walked along the path together, side by side, she came up with numerous different questions for her mother. She was planning on begging her to let her keep the cat. She would tell her that they'd bonded. It was a stray. It needed a home and it had chosen them. But when they reached the gate that led to the garden, the cat stayed behind. Elise pushed the gate open and looked back at the cat.

"Come on then," she instructed, as she waved toward the small house. But the cat only swished its tail.

"Darling," her mother said, stepping outside. "We got an owl from the…" And her eyes went wide before she could finish her sentence. Elise turned back to look at the cat so she could quickly explain it was a friendly animal, but instead of a cat there stood a tall woman.

She was an older woman with robes of green and black. Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun and she had a set of squared glasses that looked remarkably like the tabby's stripes. She seemed like a severe woman, but she offered Elise a friendly smile anyway.

"Hello, Miss Mills," she said. Then she turned toward Patricia. "And Mrs. Mills. My name is Minerva McGonagall. I am the headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Headmistress?" Patricia stammered, still shocked by having seen a cat turn into a woman.

"Yes," the headmistress confirmed.

"Forgive me. Please come in. Have a seat. I received your owl, but I was expecting you much later. I forget how quickly your kind travel."

"I would like that very much, thank you." The professor walked past the child and offered a short smile before she was led into the house. But then she turned back at the door and looked at the girl. "Are you free to join us, Miss Mills?" she asked.

Elise nervously began rubbing her hands on her dress. She was suddenly very aware of how ridiculous she must have looked. She had grown thin in the past year. Her hair had thinned and the scars on her face and bare arms felt like bright pink ribbons. She stood on the path in a dirty wet dress with muddy boots and this queenly woman wanted her to join them for tea.

"Come along, darling," Patricia said at the door. So Elise quickly followed after them.

Though Remus Lupin had been a professor at Hogwarts for a short period of time, and the Weasley family had all attended, Professor McGonagall was her first real connection to Hogwarts. Her mother led them into the homely kitchen where she sat at the table beside the small girl. Patricia bumbled around the kitchen in an attempt to get the kettle on, but she was unaccustomed to visitors and seemed startled by the headmistress.

"Have you come to take me to Hogwarts?" Elise asked as she anxiously attempted to hide her scars behind bony fingers and stringy brown hair.

"I've come to bring you your acceptance letter," she explained.

"Doesn't it usually come by owl?"

"In most cases, yes. But your case is special, isn't it?" Then Elise felt even more ashamed of her scars. She reached her fingers up to touch the ones on her face, but McGonagall seemed to pay them no mind.

"Is it wise to send her to Hogwarts in her condition?" Patricia asked as she got the kettle on the stove and took the seat across from them.

"She is hardly the first of her kind to attend our institution, and she will certainly not be the last. We think it would be best for her to receive a magical education from magical educators. She is a bright young woman and we will do whatever we can to keep her safe and happy." Patricia didn't seem convinced.

"But she's just a child." Professor McGonagall nodded once.

"And she should be with other children. She should experience life the best that she can." Elise thought of what Lupin had told her the first and last time she had ever seen him. He told her to live to the best of her ability.

"I want to go to Hogwarts, mum," she finally said. Both of the women turned to the girl and Patricia nodded in response.

"I don't have much money," she told the headmistress. Professor McGonagall waved that away.

"Attendance is free," she said. "And an anonymous doner has offered to cover the cost of supplies. We only ask that she be ready for school come September First."

"An anonymous doner?" Patricia questioned. "Who would want to help us? We hardly know anyone."

"It does not matter. Your daughter will be well taken care of at Hogwarts. And she will return home for Christmas and the summer. I understand that it will be quiet here without her, but there are other parents just like you. And the Weasley family has offered to send you correspondence. Patricia shook her head.

"They've suffered so much. I would not want to burden them."

"Friendship is no burden. Which is why we think it best to send Miss Mills to Hogwarts so that she can make friends and lead a normal life."

"It's what Lupin wanted," Elise said. She was looking down at the scarred hands in her lap, but she could see them turn their heads to her again. "When I met him—after—he said he wanted me to go to Hogwarts and live. To make friends and fall in love and just—live." She saw McGonagall nod and pinch her lips as if to hold back some unseen emotion. But Elise looked up and focused on her mother.

"You can experience life here too, darling," Patricia said. "You don't have to go away to live a good life."

"I don't want to leave you behind," the girl admitted. "But I want to go to Hogwarts. I want to be—normal." Her mother nodded slowly and didn't bother to disguise the emotions she was feeling. Her eyes were glassy as she turned them back to the headmistress.

"September first," she said. McGonagall nodded.

...

I'm sorry these chapters are so short. I have a hard time grasping canonical characters, so I tend to try and skim over that as quickly as I can. But there will be more interaction with original characters than anything else, so once I get that settled I can stretch them.

ALSO, I MET JAMES AND OLIVER PHELPS THIS LAST WEEKEND AND THEY'RE SO NICE AND TALL OMG!


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